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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141955">Even If It Hurts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPixieDust/pseuds/RegalPixieDust'>RegalPixieDust</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPixieDust/pseuds/RegalPixieDust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a huge betrayal leaves Robin and Regina utterly devastated, they begin to realise that the love they've been longing for might have been right under their noses the entire time. Outlaw Queen AU. Slow Burn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evil Queen | Regina Mills &amp; Robin Hood, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Huntsman | Sheriff Graham, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, Marian/Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Caught</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a split second, 108 Mifflin Street stopped feeling much like home to Regina anymore.</p><p>Every time flaw in the foundation and decor has been exacerbated in the wake of, quite possibly, one of the worst days of her adult life.</p><p>The third step on the staircase still creaks like a bitch, it has for months now, and there are no string of words to properly emphasise how bland the tiles in the master bathroom are. The wallpaper was chosen by her mother, the artwork on the walls belonged to her father, and despite having photographs framed and ready to be hung instead, she's kept putting it off and off.</p><p>All the things she thought didn't bother her now feel like her biggest enemies, surrounding her with ridicule now that her heart has been shattered into a million sharp pieces. It's scattered all over the hardwood floor she always wished she had picked in the darker colour.</p><p>Or maybe she just wishes that she didn't let Graham's insisting sway her decision.</p><p>Especially not now.</p><p>Graham was meant to be the one. The love of her life. The person she would grow old with. And Regina gave him everything - her love, her trust, and her efforts. He took the time to get close to her fourteen-year-old son, Henry and had the audacity to promise them both a lifetime of honesty. Every ounce of that promise is the wrecking ball that smacked against her chest.</p><p>She didn't see his betrayal coming, not in a million years. She never imagined he was capable of cheating, but the image of him in their bed with a barely clothed Marian will forever be burned in her mind as a constant reminder of how stupid she was to ever trust him.</p><p>Her fiancé and her <em>married </em>best friend.</p><p>Marian barely said a word when she haphazardly pulled her dress back over her head but left the room with a tearful <em>I'm sorry </em>falling from her lips. Regina couldn't shift her glare from Graham. She blinked a few times, even considered pinching herself, just to be sure, but every second that passed pulled her further and further into the reality of the nightmare.</p><p>"I'll be downstairs," Regina drew from her deep in her chest.</p><p>And that's where she went. She made her way down the stairs, creaking on the third from the bottom as usual, and fell carelessly against the cream cushions before exhaling the most pained sigh she has in a long, long time.</p><p>She has started to question everything, the tiles, the wallpaper, all of it, while enveloped in the oddly comforting grasp of the couch cushions. She even thinks about how she was going to strip the bed and toss those sheets in the washer with double the recommended amount of detergent and at the highest setting allowed. It's the closes thing to burning them entirely that she can do since Henry picked them out for her birthday last year, so an actual flame would be out of the question.</p><p>When Graham comes downstairs, she's perched on the couch with her fingers clasped in her lap. Her knees are bobbing up and down impatiently as he starts to pace around in front of her as he mutters off excuse after excuse.</p><p>She's glaring at him, has been since the step creaked on his descent almost an hour ago, but all the words he's saying might as well be dead silence. Every meaningless syllable from his mouth is instead being drowned out by the voice in her head scolding the decision she made with these goddamn wooden floors.</p><p>Graham startles her when he kneels down and presses his chest against her knees, grabbing at her hands desperately and apologising as if his life depends on it. They're hollow apologies, doing nothing to absolve the nauseating pit in her stomach.</p><p>"You need to leave," she mutters, snatching her hands away, even going as far to run them on the rough fabric of the couch to rid herself of the feeling of him. He is about to start begging, he always looks like a deer in headlights when he's battling with words.</p><p>"Get <em>out</em>," she bites.</p><p>"Regina, please…"</p><p>"Don't you dare," she warns. He doesn't get to plead. Not today. Not ever. "We're finished. That's it."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>"The fact that you think you can undo this with a conversation is just insulting," she tells him, desperate for him to step away from her. "Leave. And I hope for your own sake that you don't bump into Robin any time soon."</p><p>He lingers, still pressed against her legs, so she stands up quickly with a disgusted groan to push passed him and flee to the kitchen. She plants her hands on the cool surface of the island, takes a deep breath in to settle her bubbling anger, and when she exhales, it's accompanied by a choked sob, coinciding perfectly with the front door as it slams shut.</p><p>Hitting her palms angrily against the granite, she rips off the ring from her ring finger and throws it fiercely to her right, not caring in the slightest where it ends up. Her breath quickens as she begins to pace around the kitchen aimlessly, rubbing her hands up and down her black pencil skirt, reaching up to claw through her long hair impetuously as her mind races.</p><p>Staring blankly ahead for at least another twenty minutes or so, leaning uncomfortably against the kitchen countertop, she is trying to piece together how she moves forward from here.</p><p>Obviously, he needs to move out. It's over. But that means packing up his things and him having to come back for them. Henry is gone for the weekend, thank god, but when he comes home she will have to tell him what happened - he's going to be crushed.</p><p>And the wedding.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>They had mercilessly been planning for over a year, the date circled with a big red heart on the calendar held up by apple-shaped magnets on the fridge. She'll have to cancel everything, call everyone… The choruses of pity are already sounding in her head.</p><p>In the midst of imagined phone class, there is a quiet knocking from the front door and she almost ignores it, however, it's persistent. She loathes to think that Graham has come back with some new excuses to throw in her face, but her legs take her to the door regardless.</p><p>She sharpens her words before reaching for the doorknob, prepared to lash out as fiercely as needed, but, unexpected to her, the body on the other side of the door is that of the only other person in his town that might have any clue what she's going through.</p><p>"Robin," she exhales, opening the door all the way, silently offering to him to come inside.</p><p>Neither of them moves. They barely make eye contact.</p><p>Silently, he holds up his right hand to show that it's clutching a large, white paper bag with <em>Granny's </em>scribbled across the side.</p><p>"I thought you might be hungry," he says.</p><p>Her stomach drops to the ground with worry. Did Marian not tell him? Did she not run home to her husband and confess everything? But all that doubt dissolves when their eyes finally meet.</p><p>He's hurting, the pain behind his gaze indisputable.</p><p>"I also brought this," he says, raising a full bottle of whiskey for her to see, before confessing, "I didn't know where else to go."</p><p>She wouldn't either. If she had stormed out the house instead of Graham, she can't say for certain that she wouldn't have immediately sought out Robin. He's one of her best friends. Possibly her <em>only</em> friend now.</p><p>Regina steps back, extending the silent invite even further and reaches to squeeze his shoulder supportively when he passes. After closing the door, she dawdles briefly, resting his forehead again the front door and inhaling sharply before following Robin back to the couch where the shape of her heartbreak is still pressed into the cushion.</p><p>The paper bag meets the floor, grease probably about to seep through, but she can't seem to find any energy to care. That's why when Robin asks if she has any glasses for the whiskey, she takes the bottle from him, twists the cap off and takes a hearty swig of the nipping liquor as she sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.</p><p>She offers Robin a drink, and he happily takes it from her but he doesn't seem as inspired to drown his sorrows right away. Instead, he's staring at the neck of the bottle and at the way his hands are gripping onto it as they succumb into a short silence.</p><p>"I had no idea," he mutters somberly.</p><p>"Me neither," she sighs.</p><p>It never once occurred to her that this was going one. Between the four of them, they all work drastically different jobs and different hours. They could barely plan a games night, let alone find the time to commit adultery.</p><p>"What do we do?" Robin asks aimlessly, finally swallowing a mouthful of the whiskey. "I don't think I can go home. She kept apologising and crying, and all I could do was sit there. She thought that coming clean about everything was going to change how much it felt like… like…"</p><p>"Like someone was sitting on your chest?" Regina offers, taking her turn with the bottle as he nods. He scoffs a bitter laugh, one that she happily mirrors. "You will stay here," she tells him, as a matter of fact, refusing to acknowledge any argument that follows. "Henry is on a trip with Violet's family until Sunday night. You can sleep in his room. Or I can set up the spare room, it's up to you."</p><p>"You're sure?" he asks, "The last thing you need is someone to babysit."</p><p>"You'd do the same for me, and let's face it," Regina stands from the coffee table with the greasy bag scrunched in her fist, "Getting drunk alone isn't nearly as fun."</p><p>Robin sinks forward, his elbows digging into his knees with his face in his palms.</p><p>"Where's Roland?" Regina asks.</p><p>Sighing into his palms, he mumbles, "With John."</p><p>"Call him," she suggests. "Wish him a goodnight and then we can eat."</p><p>In the kitchen, Regina sets two plates on the counter and sneaks a glance back into the living room where Robin is still sitting and staring blankly at his phone. She won't rush him. She knows him well enough that he'll make the call when he's ready, but it doesn't tame how much her heart aches in an entirely new way all of a sudden.</p><p>This will be Robin's first night away from his son that wasn't because of a shift at work. Sure, the happy-go-lucky six-year-old will probably not notice in the midst of a sleepover with his Uncle John, but she remembers Henry's first night away from her and it was killer.</p><p>Somewhere between reaching inside the bag and beginning to unravel the burgers from their wrappers, she hears Robin speaking from the other room. At first, it's lifeless and asking to speak to Roland, then it morphs into a delicate tone full of love that could trick anyone into thinking everything is alright.</p><p>To avoid eavesdropping too much, she clears her throat and opens the fridge, ignoring the huge beacon of a date that she is growing to dread. Robin will want mustard no doubt, and she decides she can splurge for extra ketchup today.</p><p>With the condiments in hand, she feels conflicted by the way the smell of the burgers is overwhelming the kitchen. Frowning, she thinks about how she and Robin first met over a cheeseburger at Granny's, and now that memory will forever be tainted by this day.</p><p>Regina was sitting alone after a stressful day of interviews with an adoption agency when the new British resident, the talk on the town, stealthily eased his way into her booth and introduced himself. Robin was relentless as he brushed off her daggered looks and eye rolls as if they were nothing, and eventually, they became inseparable.</p><p>He's been right by her side ever since. He was there the day she brought Henry home from the agency, he was there when her father died, he was there when Graham proposed…</p><p>"You alright?" Robin asks from the door into the kitchen, immediately scrunching up his nose at his own question. "Of course you're not. Sorry."</p><p>They sit together at the island in the centre of the kitchen, side by side on tall stools. Robin gets comfortable and opens his burger to drown it in mustard.</p><p>"I was thinking about the day we met," she tells him, squirting a dollop of ketchup onto the foil to dip into.</p><p>Robin smiles fondly, "Burgers and persistence." They take a few bites in silence, but neither of them seems to be able to stomach more than that. "They never would have met if not for us," he announces sadly, wrapping up the uneaten burger back into the foil in came in. "Bloody irony at its finest."</p><p>Defeated and exhausted, she drops her head down to rest against Robin's shoulder, food is forgotten and dread drenching her like a piece of cloth.</p><p>"What do we do?" Regina asks, desperate for an answer.</p><p>She feels Robin's disheartened shrug before he suggests, "I don't know. But there is a bottle of whiskey in there, most likely incapable of giving us answers, but it might get us through the first night..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Leave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin wakes to the endless pinging and vibrating of his phone against the coffee table, where he abandoned it the night before. He's face down, fully clothed, and feeling <em>rough</em>; they may have searched for too many answers at the bottom of that bottle last night.</p><p>He pushes up from the painfully uncomfortable position he chose for the night, a scratchy groan vibrating from his throat as every muscle and bone in his body scolds him with his decision to move.</p><p>The whisky bottle is on the floor, empty, just shy of the coffee table, and just the sight of it brings a wave of nausea.</p><p>What started off as a few indulgent gulps shared between heartbroken friends turned into much more and his poor body is reaping the consequences. He can't even remember what time he fell asleep—the whole night is a bit of a haze—but he has a blanket twisted around his legs, which leaves him to believe that Regina gave up trying to get him to Henry's room.</p><p>The sun is shining brightly through the thick curtains behind him, the heat baking the back of his neck. His phone rings again, and this time he stretches over to check the screen. He's not surprised to see close to thirty texts and a few missed calls from Marian, but he doesn't want to deal with her right now so he switches it to silent mode and flips the phone face down so the screen isn't visible.</p><p>Ignoring the aches in his body, he inspects the state of the kitchen. The clock on the wall reads close to noon, and there's no sign of Regina having been downstairs yet today. There's no strong smell of coffee wafting through the air like there usually would be during an afternoon with Regina and Henry, all he notices is the leftover, half-eaten burgers. He remembers encouraging her to eat a little more as they drank, but the truth is, even he found it difficult to swallow.</p><p>His efforts to clean up are interrupted by a gentle knock at the front door. He listens for Regina walking around upstairs but it appears she's slept through the noise.</p><p>When the knock sounds again, Robin decides to answer it himself, and the surprise is mutual for those on either side of the door.</p><p>"Robin…" Marian exhales nervously. She's still in the navy dress from the night before, covering up her shoulders with a beige cardigan, and she looks as if she slept about as well as he did. "I didn't know you were here," she confesses.</p><p>He and Regina had spent a fair amount of time last night drunkenly determining what they would say to Graham or Marian, but none of his rehearsed words seem to want to come forward.</p><p>They stand, face to face, in a short, awkward bout of silence until Marian mutters, "I came to see Regina."</p><p>His laugh is subtle before suggesting, "Hasn't she seen enough of you recently?"</p><p>"I came to apologise, Robin," she stresses, crossing her arms awkwardly across her chest, gripping her fingers into the comfort of the woollen fabric, something she always does when she's nervous. "I've been trying to apologise to <em>you</em> all morning, but you haven't been answering my calls."</p><p>"I was sleeping."</p><p><em>Barely</em>, he thinks. The whiskey might have knocked him out but it was a restless evening.</p><p>"I didn't mean to hurt you," she mumbles, barely a whisper.</p><p>He can't believe his ears, even scoffs and has to force himself from screaming at her for how ridiculous a statement like that is. The very least she could do is own up to her mistakes.</p><p>"I should go," she takes a step back from the door, "I should never have come here."</p><p>She's making her way down the path to her car when one of his many nagging questions desperately seeks an answer.</p><p>"How long?" he calls over the short distance between them.</p><p>She stops just shy of the sidewalk and turns back to face him, asking, "Does it matter?"</p><p>He supposes not, but still, the curiosity is eating at him. "How long, Marian?" he asks again.</p><p>Her sigh is deep, one that makes her height drop almost an inch, and his stomach drops along with it when she confesses, "Almost a year."</p><p>He thinks he has hallucinated the worst, shakes his head swiftly in an attempt to make it go away before he solemnly repeats it back to her. "Almost a year," he mumbles, struggling now to keep his stewing frustration from revealing itself.</p><p>He makes his way closer to her, making sure to close the door behind him, and in a pained whisper asks, "You have been cheating on me for almost a <em>year</em>?"</p><p>She can barely keep eye contact with him when he continues with, "And with your best friend's fiancé? Then you have the audacity to show up at this door and expect to be able to apologise it all away? Regina was your Maid of Honour. She held your hand as you gave birth to our son. You have been having lunch with her and our children every Sunday while you've been shagging Graham behind her back. And you've been coming home to me every day and making a damn fool out of me."</p><p>"I made a mistake," she says, raking her fingers stressfully through her long hair. Their eyes meet eventually, both of them utterly exhausted and shrugs, far too nonchalantly for him, as if being caught was something she never considered a possibility.</p><p>"You've made more than one mistake if this went on for as long as a year," he bites.</p><p>The anger in his stomach begins to bubble fiercely and to avoid saying anything in the heat of a moment, he takes a deep, calming breath and steps back from her.</p><p>With eyes closed, he centres himself before saying, "Coming here was selfish. Apologising will only benefit you. All you want is to assuage some of that guilt by making us forgive you for something we've barely been able to process."</p><p>"You're right," she whispers shamefully, her eyes brimmed with tears as she stares at the solid concrete slab beneath her feet.</p><p>"Go home," he says, fighting the lump that is growing in the back of his throat and against the sob that is so desperate to claw its way out. "Just stay away from her. Please."</p><p>She nods sadly, climbing into her car as Robin watches. Suddenly he's thinking about their car, trying to remember who it actually belongs to. He's almost positive it's in her name, so he'll need another way to get to work soon.</p><p>And work…</p><p>It's safe to say that waltzing into a shift with the man who screwed his wife and left his best friend heartbroken is definitely not something that's happening today. Luckily, his boss, David, will understand—he's good like that. And Saturday is usually a quiet day at the Sheriff's station, at least enough quiet enough to not merit three bodies in the building.</p><p>Marian rolls down the window closest to him, calling out, "I know Roland is with John. May I pick him up?"</p><p>Her question lay on him like a weighted blanket of guilt, and he nods immediately.</p><p>"Of course you can. You're his mother," he affirms sincerely, bending slightly to be looking at her when he says, "You may have chosen to ruin our marriage but you are an excellent mother, and I will never keep you from seeing our son."</p><p>After nodding and thanking him politely, she rolls up her window and disappears from the short length of Mifflin Street, leaving a very hungover Robin alone with a future that looks rather bleak in his mind.</p><p>He listens for Regina again when he's back inside, assuming by the silence that she's still in bed. He doesn't blame her. Since his eyes opened, there has been a nagging sense of dread that makes him want to crawl back onto the couch and disappear from the world for a bit longer.</p><p>On his way upstairs, the third stair creaks. He remembers how bitterly Regina spoke of it after eight or nine swigs of liquor. He steps on it again and listens for the scratchy screech one more time. He'll fix it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but there's not a chance in hell that he's going to let that noise be a constant reminder of yesterday.</p><p>He's not sure it will help though, there are reminders everywhere.</p><p>Her bedroom door is wide open and Regina isn't inside. The bed is unmade and messy, some random pieces of clothing strewn across the floor. Regina probably hasn't been in here since she caught Marian and Graham. It makes sense; the comforter is hastily dropped on the ground, the pillows aren't neatly where they should be, and the blazer that he recognises as Marian's is draped on the chair in the corner.</p><p>Robin can't step inside, his gut twisting, so he turns away and notices that Henry's bedroom door is cracked open. That's unusual considering that Henry is very much a teenager that locks himself away for hours at a time, but even more so today since he's not home.</p><p>Robin peers inside and finds Regina still asleep, curled up in the small bed. It looks as if she managed to change into a band tee and sweatpants before spooning herself against one of the pillows and drifting off.</p><p>His heart aches for her on top of the ache put there by Marian. The heaviness of the betrayals demolishing his shoulders as he ponders aimlessly for ways to make this pain go away for them. But it's too much. There isn't a way to simply push through the destruction left over by his wife and his friend.</p><p>Regina will be destroyed even more when she realises how long they were deceived. In her house. In her bedroom.</p><p>He decides to let her sleep a little longer and crosses the threshold that had this stomach in knots just minutes earlier. He rips the covers from pillows, sheds the sheets from the bed and comforter, and marches straight downstairs—the creaky third step cheering him on along the way—and bundles up everything together in the washer.</p><p>He could throw them away easily, he even questions if that is what he should do, but Henry gave her these sheets. They're soft and satiny, and a refreshingly gorgeous shade of light blue that he and Henry knew she would love when they picked them out. Instead, he pours in some detergent and turns on the machine to clean everything thoroughly from the deceit soaked into the threads.</p><p>He takes the liberty of throwing away the clothes scattered on the floor, tossing the familiar blazer and Graham's work shirt into a trash bag when he feels a presence behind him.</p><p>Over his shoulder, he notices a very tired looking Regina Mills hovering with her arms crossed over the front of the huge Def Leppard print. She doesn't speak and her eyes are heavy, most likely from the hangover she's undoubtedly suffering through.</p><p>Tentatively, she wanders over to her dresser for a hair tie, throwing her hair into a messy bun at the top of her head that would never see the inside of her classroom at the high school.</p><p>"I'm going back to bed," she croaks dejectedly, shuffling with heavy steps back out into the hallway. "You coming?"</p><p>At first, Robin isn't sure if her invite is sincere, especially when she turns back in the direction of Henry's room, but he follows nonetheless. She's already crawled back into Henry's bed by the time he gets there, staring up to the ceiling dismally, and it's only when she scoots her body to the far right side of the small mattress and pats beside her that he even considered stepping inside her personal space.</p><p>He joins her, laying side by side, arms and legs touching all the way down the middle, and together they remain in silence yet again, both probably straining over the same questions relentlessly: How did this happen?</p>
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